Part One: The Loss
The F’giz
The city lay swaddled in f’giz, the densest mists of the year; they swirled up out of the Rift at the city’s back, covering everything with a thick blanket of damp fog. Yet preparations continued for Ironmaster Cyril Jordan’s fiftieth birthday party. Plans, announced weeks ago included entertainment of jugglers, minstrels, and belly dancers.
Sweetmeats and dried fruits had been brought in the last caravan to G’il Rim from the capital city of G’il Dan and stored in cool cellars, along with the finest meads and ales.
Because of the fog, Wayfinders were kept busy throughout the day, escorting tradesmen delivering waxed wheels of yellow and white cheeses, loaves of fragrant breads, and roasted rabbit, duck and goat. Nothing could keep Mayor Augustus Porter – or any other citizen – from attending the party, not even the f’giz.
Head Wayfinder Eli Eldras warned Cyril early that evening, “This is the worst f’giz I’ve seen in twenty years. I don’t know how we can make it through the night without someone lost.” He ran a hand through his iron gray mane. “To make it worse, we may have to use apprentices to make sure everyone makes it to the party on time. I’ll supervise them myself, but – “
“Fine, fine.” Cyril agreed, then turned to discuss ballads with the minstrels.
As the afternoon wore on, the f’giz grew deeper still, the Rift mists flowing thick over stone roofs, creeping under thresholds, and stalking through abandoned streets. An hour before Cyril’s party was to begin, the Wayfinders were edgy, pacing around the dining room of Finder’s Hall. Then the moment for action arrived. They scattered into the night, red-and-white robes disappearing into the fog and cries muted.
“May you have a prosperous night!”
“Good Finding!”
The mayor’s hand weighed heavily on Apprentice Wayfinder Winchal Eldras’s shoulder.
Win concentrated to keep from shrugging it off. His shoulder would ache tomorrow, but that was the price of being a Finder: sore shoulders, tired feet, and fat purses.
“Are we lost?” said the mayor for the tenth time.
Win took pity on him. They took two more rapid steps; then Win said, “Look.”
Above their heads hung the Forge and Hammer, the Ironworkers’ Guild sign. From here on huge lanterns hung on iron spikes every then feet along an iron fence, dim beacons in the choking fog. Beyond their circle of light loomed a shapeless hulk, the Ironworkers’ Guild House.
The mayor dropped his hand with a sigh of relief, then quickly slapped it back on Win’s shoulder. The Finders’ Guild told stories of folk losing their way just ten feet from a house and waiting hours for a Finder to Find them. Or worse, wandering around until they wound up outside the city gates, standing in awe at the sense-staggering edge of the Rift. The clouds coalesced into forms so substantial a lost soul was tempted to step out onto them. A fatal mistake.
During the fogless dry season even cowards scoffed at the stories. But this was the wet season. The mayor dared not take a chance on his own in the f’giz. His hand clutched Win’s shoulder in a death grip.
Elaborate wrought-iron gates swung open easily at Win’s touch. They entered a courtyard, and the great stone house towered foundationless over them.
“Who goes there?” called the gruff voice of the doorkeeper.
“Apprentice Finder Eldras escorting Mayor Porter.”
“Apprentice Finder Angelus escorting Mistress Porter.”
Win grunted. Kira had made good time, too, even escorting the mayor’s pampered wife.
Within a few steps the house’s windows materialized, complete with wrought-iron grillwork. Bright beams of light trickled a few feet before dissipating in the fog. Muffled music seeped under the doorway.
Coins dropped into Win’s hand, then Kira’s hand. The mayor and his wife stumbled up the steps into the welcoming light and laughter.
Eli, Win’s stepfather, appeared in a pool of light. He slapped them both on the back, then drew the red and white pin-striped robes of the Head Finder closer against the chilly mists. “Good Finding!”
“Everyone else is here?”
“Yes, the mayor will get his grand entrance. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll make it through this night.” He pulled at his chin. “The mayor shows his trust in our guild by letting our best apprentices escort him and his wife. You did well for the guild by making such good time. Well done.”
The apprentices grinned.
“We can Find anything, anywhere, anytime,” Win said, and Kira agreed. In the fog the white halves of their apprentice robes disappeared, leaving only the red sides in a lopsided look that disoriented strangers. Win was neat and tidy, from his immaculate apprentice’s robe to closely cropped black hair to clean fingernails. The bright light from the house threw his face, especially his aristocratic nose, into sharp profile. At eleven he and Kira were the oldest apprentices in Finder’s Hall. They were equally matched, except that Win’s fear of heights kept him away from the edge of the Rift, while Kira was comfortable anywhere in the city. After five years of training, they hoped their flawless execution of duties this evening would clinch their positions as full fledged Finders.
Kira, a large girl, reached up to unbind her blond hair, which had been plaited and twisted into a massive knot on the nape of her neck.
Eli said, “Let’s get back to Finder’s Hall for a few hours of rest before we return to escort everyone home.”
“Race you,” Kira said to Win. She shook her head, further loosening the locks that were already starting to frizz in the damp air.
“Done,” Win said, then loped away on long legs into the murk.
“Slow down,” Eli called after them, but it was a good-natured admonition. He’d been a young Finder once, flush in the knowledge that he could speed through fog that held most people immobile.
Win raced through the streets of upper G’il Rim. His Finder’s sense told him when to sidestep an obstacle or turn invisible street corners. As he ran, Win kept one Finding on Finder’s Hall and one on Kira. She paced him easily street by street until they reached Finder’s Square, where he headed for the main gate, while she darted in the side gate.
Scorpions! He was faster, but he hadn’t thought of that shortcut. He sprinted across the vacant square, down the street, and around to the apprentice’s door to Finder’s Hall. Too late. Kira leaned against the doorframe wiht extended hand. They both were panting slightly from the run, and their robes were soaked from the dense fog.
Kira said, “You lose. Pay up.”
The Sister
Win hunched over his bowl, letting the fragrant steam from the thick vegetable stew warm his face before he scooped it into his mouth as fast as he could. The race up the hillside to Finder’s Hall had left him with a hollow pit in his stomach, which could be filled only with his mother’s stew. His robe sizzled on a drying rack in front of the fire, mingling the smell of wet wool with that of the stew. He refilled his bowl from the small pot hanging in the fireplace in the family’s chambers. Win slept upstairs with the apprentices now and usually ate in the hall with the others. Eli, as Head Finder, often preferred privacy, though, so Hazel, Win’s mother, usually kept a small stewpot in their own chambers. When Win was famished, he often visited his parents’ hearth in hopes of more to eat.
A faint buzzing came from the grindstone in the corner where Hazel was sharpening her kitchen knives. Zanna, his half sister, flung a handful of tea leaves into a kettle of boiling water.
As Win’s belly filled, warmth spread through him. He and Kira both had done well tonight, and soon they would trade their apprentice robes for a Finder’s stripe.
“Good stew,” he said.
Hazel rose from the grindstone and ran a thumb along the edge of a paring knife.
“Vegetables again. When the mists clear out enough, I’ll send you outside the city gates to check my snares,” she said. “We’ve been so busy this week, I can’t spare anyone that long.”
Zanna set a steaming mug of tea in front of Win. “The snares will have rabbits in them, won’t they?”
Hazel nodded. “We usually catch a couple during a f’giz.”
Hazel had been a Finder herself for many years before she took over Finder’s Hall, becoming cook, nurse, confidante, and mother to the thirty or so apprentices. Her black hair was sprinkled with gray, and her figure was still slim, if not supple any longer. She walked with a slight limp, favoring the left leg, an old injury from a Finding she refused to talk about. The apprentices gossiped about what had caused the limp.
“She was mauled by a tiger while trying to Find a treasure.”
“The King himself saved her from a charging wolf.”
“She journeyed into the Rift and fell while climbing the cliffs to get out. Though she was injured, she made it out. She’s the only person to escape the Rift.”
At first the apprentices tried to worm more information about Hazel from Win. He could add nothing, though. Somewhere there were memories of a tall man who came and went, a series of odd jobs, odd sleeping chambers, and then Eli. Win had been glad when Hazel decided to marry the strong Wayfinder.
Hazel heard all the rumors but let hem go unanswered, staying behind a wall of reserve and letting the rumors give her a mysterious dignity and authority. Yet for all her reserve, the apprentices loved her and longed for her hard-won word of approval. In turn Hazel mothered them with the heartiest meals in G’il Rim and protected them with the fierceness of a Rift eagle.
Win filled his bowl a third time.
“Leave some for Eli,” Hazel said. She took a step, stopped to stretch out a catch in her leg, then hurried out to the kitchen to tend the fire and big stewpot. She would keep it simmering night and day while the f’giz lasted, for the Finders who were coming and going from jobs.
Win worked on his stew again.
Zanna snuggled against him and sipped her tea. “Even if the f’giz is bad, you could Find the rabbit snares tomorrow. Or maybe there will be rabbits or some kind of meat in the marketplace.” She fingered the fat leather pouch at his waist.
Win slapped halfheartedly at her hands. “Quit nagging. The market will be empty, and I’ll be busy.”
Zanna turned away and crossed skinny arms over he chest. “Kira will be busy, not you. She beat you again.”
Win ignored her and concentrated on his bowl.
Eli entered, his bulk filling the small room. When he saw Zanna, he plucked her from the bench. She squealed in delight, making the harried look leave Eli’s face. He sat in the spacious wicker chair next to the fireplace and plopped Zanna onto his lap. In spite of the contrast between Eli’s leathered cheeks and Zanna’s lily soft check, the family resemblance was clear in the friendly brown eyes, sparse eyebrows, and high cheekbones.
Eli tousled Zanna’s blond curls and said, “Don’t tease your brother. Win and Kira have been battling for recognition as the best apprentice for a year now. Sometimes he wins; sometimes she does. Next time Win will beat her.”
“Who cares about races anyway?” Zanna said, suddenly taking ehr brother’s side again.
“If I were lost, I’d want Win, not Kira, to Find me.”
“And Find you I would, little one.” Win carried his bowl to the washing bucket and cleaned and dried it.
“Is there any stew?” Eli asked.
“Just vegetable,” Zanna said.
“Oh. I’ll pass,”Eli said.
Zanna frowned, then started chewing on her thumbnail.
Win had seen that look before. Zanna was scheming something. Win was already five when his half sister was born. He dimly remembered life before Zanna, traveling with Hazel until they settled here in G’il Rim, but life always seemed brighter and sharper when Zanna was involved. They had grown up happy and secure in Finder’s Hall.
Their happiness had been threatened last month when Zanna turned six. Her Finding talent was so poor she hadn’t even been able to Find the novice’s Bell by herself. Other Finders’ children who showed no Finding talent were already apprenticed out to other trades by their sixth birthday. But Zanna was Eli’s joy. He had been old enough to think he would never have a child when Hazel surprised him with Zanna, and he made no excuse for spoiling her.
“She can earn her keep right here. Let her be the apprentice cook for Finder’s Hall,” Eli told Hazel.
Win had joined his stepfather in arguing for Zanna: “Wait a few more years.”
In the end Hazel agreed to start teaching Aznna to bake a dozen loaves of bread each morning and how to do the marketing. That meant Win usually took Zanna to market since she couldn’t Find her way home.
Their first stop in the market was always Rilla’s fruit stand. Win would lean against a post, while Zanna examined everything and questioned Rilla about where she’d gotten it.
Most of the fruits – figs, dates, lemons, or whatever was in season – came from Tilla’s family estate, which had deep wells for irrigation. But Zanna still liked to ask. Finally she would choose one fruit, for which Win paid a copper coin. She would sit regally on Rilla’s stool and eat the fruit, letting juices run down her chin. Pigeons paced at her feet, awaiting crumbs from the hand of royalty. Often she bit off tiny pieces that she threw to them, and she always gave them the core or seeds. She would end by licking each finder in turn, then solemnly than Win by kissing his cheek, generously sharing the sticky juice.
They would race each other to the fountain in the middle of the market, where they washed. The rest of the shopping would be fast and efficient.
This afternoon of the f’giz Rilla’s stall had been closed because it was too dangerous for her to travel into town. Win had scowled when Roberto said he was out of rabbit and likely wouldn’t have any more until the f’giz cleared. Zanna had insisted they ask at every other stall, but half were already closed for the evening, and the rest said, “The ironmaster’s party took every bit of game we had.”
Now Zanna lay back against Eli’s broad chest and yawned. It didn’t fool Win. They hadn’t heard the last about rabbits for Eli’s stew.
“Time for bed,” Eli said.
“Let me stay up and help Mama cook. It’s a busy night for Finders.”
Eli ran a finger down her cheek. “Hazel will need your help cooking all day tomorrow, too. Unless I miss my guess, the mists will be with us all day.”
“Even at noon?”
“This is f’giz. Who knows? It can come and go without warning. But I think the noon sun won’t burn off fog this thick.”
Hazel came in carrying a small plate of sliced bread, which she laid on the table near Eli’s bowl.
Zanna winked privately to Win, then turned to Hazel. “Mama, may I stay up and help you tonight?”
Hazel told Eli, “I don’t mind if she stays up tonight and sleeps late on the morrow.”
“Please.” Zanna turned shining eyes to her father.
Eli tried to look stern, but a smile betrayed him. “Just stay inside tonight and tomorrow, unless – “
“- unless I go with a Finder. I know. Thanks!”
Zanna took his face in her soft hands, bent his head, and reached up to kiss his forehead.
She jumped from his lap and shadowed Hazel as she returned to the kitchen. At the door she turned, dazzled them with a smile, and disappeared.
The Mists
Win tracked Zanna through the sweet-smelling fog. Where was she going?
He had worked all night, escorting guests home from the Ironmaster’s party. Eli and the other Finders had finally fallen into bed, exhausted but relieved. “Everyone safe?”
Finder’s Hall was silent except for snores until late afternoon. The mists had thinned in the noon sun, giving a block or two visibility. Win spent the afternoon in Finder’s Square gossiping with the other apprentices about their assignments the night before and answering the teasing about Kira’s outracing him. As evening fell, thick milky white clouds billowed out of the Rift, swirling and twirling, swallowing up the buildings and leaving households isolated in the f’giz again – time for Wayfinders to work. The apprentices wandered back to Finder’s Hall.
Hazel, who was pulling hot loaves from the oven, caught Win as he passed through. “I haven’t seen Zanna lately. She’s probably up in the Apprentice Dorm. Find her and bring her to me.”
Win expected Zanna to be in Finder’s Hall or somewhere very near. He concentrated on her face: wide brown eyes, cheerful smile, and golden curls. Finding a missing person came easily now, especially when it was a person with whom he was so familiar.
Win frowned. The Finding was distinct and clear. Zanna wasn’t in Finder’s Hall or even in Finder’s Square. She was somewhere down in the city – probably at Roberto’s stall, looking for rabbit. Win’s stomach hurt in a hollow feeling that no stew could cure. With no Finding skills, Zanna would be waiting somewhere – white-faced and tense – until he came in to Find her, to lead her home to supper.
He opened the door of Finder’s Hall and started out. He stopped, almost panicking.
Zanna was moving.
Why didn’t she stop and wait to be found?
Win pulled a cloak over his robe and grabbed a lantern. He followed the Finding through the twisting streets, through the cloying floral smell of the Rift mists. Landmarks were impossible to identify in the fog, but Win moved with confidence. For thirty minutes the Finding led him through upper G’il Rim, past the vacant market stalls, and into lower G’il Rim. His stomach cramped harder. If she had stopped and waited, he would have Found her by now. Was she expecting the mists to disappear as quickly as they came?
A shrouded shaped appeared. It was a giant wolf, distorted by the mists so that it appeared to have more than one head floating over its body. Win leaped aside. What did it mean? But the mist wolf disappeared as quickly as it appeared, leaving Win to wonder if it had been real or just a f’giz phenomenon.
Win took a deep breath and shivered. Where was Zanna?
He picked up the pace now, running cautiously but quickly toward Zanna. Large wooden doors appeared before him. K’il Rus, the main gate to the city! They were barred, but a small wooden side door was ajar.
“She’s left the city! Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is?” he blurted into the mists.
Briefly he considered getting another Finder to help, but the Finding was still strong. He just didn’t like wandering outside G’il Rim in the f’giz. What was she doing outside the gate? Checking on rabbit snares? Surely not. Or was she so lost she didn’t know this was the city’s main gate? Had she gone f’giz crazy?
Win focused harder on the Finding and broke into a trot. “She can’t be far. I’ll catch up soon,” he told himself.
He shook his head vehemently. She shouldn’t be moving!
The Finding grew sharper as it led him around the edge of the city walls. The Heady Rift flower smells mingled with his own pungent sweat. The Rift was closer and closer.
Zanna was still moving!
Win trotted farther along the city wall, his footsteps muffled by the sandy soil and the blanket of fog. The lantern creaked in Win’s hand. The Finding was almost smothering him, in a familiar feeling that meant she must be close.
“Zanna!” he called.
The cry was curiously hollow, the moist white fog eating the words.
Win’s Finder’s sense told him two things: Zanna was very near, and so was the Rift’s edge. Win inched forward, unsure of his footing. He tested each step, making sure it was safe before he shifted his weight.
The lantern light caught her face. Zanna was two steps in front of him, and the mists swirled around her feet. Her curly hair hung limp. Condensed water droplets glistened on her face and short eyebrows. For a moment he wasn’t sure if she was real or just a f’giz illusion. Zanna looked up, startled. She blinked her brown eyes, and Win knew it was really his sister.
They were on the very brink of the Rift itself, and his sister stood on a small rock that curved and jutted out over the Rift. Between them was empty space. A sudden rush of blood made Win swoon with dizziness. He swayed. Fear gripped him, holding him paralyzed.
Finder’s Hall was built on the very edge of the Rift, and the upper windows overlooked the chasm. Apprentices thought they had to show their courage by hanging out the windows, throwing rocks at the Rift eagles, or challenging one another with foolish pranks. Win had watched these games all his life and thought nothing of them – until he became an apprentice. Kira had tossed her long braids behind her back and said, “I dare you to walk the ledge from one window to another.”
Then she had proceeded to show him how it was done, by nimbly dancing across the ledge.
Win had tried, but he froze when his foot crossed the threshold of the window. He could never explain to Kira the panic that gripped him. Waves of terror rose from somewhere inside him. He felt compelled to jump. He didn’t want to jump; he wanted to live. But he knew if he put his other foot outside the window, he would leap into the Rift. He would fall and fall and fall and fall.
Zanna was tempting fate, challenging death.
He tried to move. He staggered forward a half step. Words moved out of his mouth in slow motion. “Zaaanna! Dooon’t mooove!”
He took another tentative shuffle step toward her.
“Win, I knew you’d come.” With a sob Zanna reached to catch his hand. She took a single step through the billowing clouds.
Without a sound she plunged out of sight.
“Zanna!” Win dropped the lantern and lunged for where she had been. He fell, his arms hanging off the edge of the Rift. The stone cliff cut sharply into his chest. He peered helplessly into the rising mists.
She was gone.
His arms dangling in midair, Win lay numb with shock. For long seconds the Finding followed Zanna as she fell. Then the Finding was gone: it simply disappeared. Instead he felt nothing, a void. He had failed. He had been just one second too late. Another Finder would have made Zanna understand she shouldn’t move. But he had been paralyzed with fear for a split second. He had been too late.
The Bell
The Finder’s Bell led Win home. After he lay on the rim of the Rift in the cold and fog for a long time, the chill crept through even his wool cloak. Win didn’t want to move, but the Bell kept tolling and tolling. It was calling him to do something.
Leave me alone!
The Bell tolled louder. It demanded an answer; it commanded him to do something.
Where was Zanna?
The Bell wouldn’t stop tolling. Win forced himself to get up and answer the call.
A three-foot-thick sandstone wall separated the Finders’ section of town from the jumble of shops, tangled streets, and cramped stone houses below them in G’il Rim. Because it was the oldest part of the city, no one knew who had built the wall or where the Finder’s Bell had been forged. Three gates and numerous doors penetrated the Finder’s Wall. The largest gate, K’il Bell, had worn wooden doors, which dangled slightly askew. Above the gate in an arched alcove hung the Bell. It was a two-foot in diameter brass bell, dusty gold but tinged green around the edges. There was a long clapper, but no rope to ring it.
Sometimes a child from outside – never a Finder’s child – threw a rock at the bell, making it chime with a whispered sound that hinted at a full, resonant toll if the Bell were ever really run. But the Bell was always silent – unless you were a Finder. Then you heard it ringing in your head.
The Finder’s Bell was the first thing an apprentice was taught to Find. The apprentices were taken out into the city and had to Find their way home by concentrating on Finding the Bell. No Finders were born to the guild; they came to it because of their innate ability to locate objects, a talent that had to be tutored and developed. This usually meant five years as an apprentice in Finder’s Hall, with increasingly difficult tasks set by Hazel, Eli, and the Finder’s Council.
Win couldn’t explain to a non-Finder how he knew the Bell’s location. He just knew, as if the Bell were ringing and he had only to follow the silent tolling. Once he concentrated on Finding the Bell, there became only two directions: toward the Bell or away from the Bell. Normal directions of north, south, east, and west, of right or left became meaningless. He couldn’t give directions on how to get to the Bell, but for a copper coin he could lead anyone to it.
Win didn’t remember walking back to K’il Bell Gate; he only remembered the numbing cold and the incessant tolling of the Bell. How had he gotten all the way to the Bell? And where was Zanna?
Hazel and Eli found him huddled just inside the gate.
“Where’s Zanna?” Eli shook him roughly. “I can’t get a Finding on her. Where is she?”
Win could only stare at his stepfather’s face: weathered cheeks, iron gray mane, and eyes that lit up only when Zanna was around. But Zanna was –
Win turned and buried his face in Hazel’s soft shoulder.
Eli pulled at his cloak and again demanded, “Where is Zanna?”
Tears streamed down Hazel’s face. “He’s in shock. There’s no Finding for Zanna, and you know what that means. She’s beyond our help. It’s Win who needs us now. Let’s get him back to Finder’s Hall.”
But Eli fled into the mists, leaving Hazel to care for Win.
The Bell had saved Win’s life that night. He wished it hadn’t.
? 
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, by Sidney Williams writing as Michael August:
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